Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop: Chinatown Wins Again, Now What?
Between the streets of Vine and Arch rests a community born over 150 years ago.
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Between the streets of Vine and Arch rests a community born over 150 years ago.
If I were to mention “Funky Drummer,” you might furrow your brow in unrecognition, or you might be trying to decipher what combination of sounds could warrant the title. Is the drummer funky because he smells weird? Or is it a nod to his unparalleled groove? Chances are, you wouldn’t recognize the track’s appeal or mid–20th century cultural significance, nor would you be familiar with its creator. In the hip–hop world, the eccentric James Brown is widely considered to be the most sampled artist of all time. Alongside iconic hits like “Funky President (People It’s Bad)” and “Get Up Offa That Thing,” he penned “Funky Drummer” during a successful career that spanned the ‘60s and ‘70s. But if you’re just not cool enough to keep up with Nixon–era disco, chances are you are familiar with its borrowers.
It’s not hyperbole to say that David Lynch changed my life. There are those precious few artists whose work hits you at precisely the right moment in your life that forever alter its course. Through the perfect combination of circumstance and substance, they literally expand your field of view. They show you what art can be, and immediately your life is never the same. David Lynch did that for me and for so many others.
On Monday, Sept. 23, two different red signages mingled with the crowds outside of Citizens Bank Park. There was the typical Philadelphia Phillies red, donned by excited fans to cheer their team on against the Chicago Cubs; and then there was the bright scarlet of solidarity and unity, displayed on shirts and signs of striking Aramark workers. Even under grey, rain–threatening skies, the spirits of fans and striking workers alike weren’t dampened. Chants of “If we don’t get it? Shut it down!” and “What do we want? Contracts!” rang through the air, all under the watchful eye of the iconic, inflatable Scabby the Rat.
Engaging with the rich history of Philadelphia’s Black communities requires balancing the specific and the universal—examining the unique, localized histories of individual neighborhoods and people while also identifying broader themes and shared experiences that connect them. These local histories form a diverse tapestry, challenging the idea of a single, monolithic Black experience in Philadelphia, while still revealing common struggles, triumphs, and cultural threads. Temple Contemporary’s exhibition Black Like That: Our Lives as Living Praxis furthers this dynamic exploration, contributing to a unique vision of art as living praxis—an art informed by both archival research and engagement with Philadelphia’s neighborhoods.
2024’s been an unbelievable year for hip hop, and there’s a good chance you already know this. Of course, it’s a colossal one for the culture, with Kendrick Lamar finally dragging rap out of the “Drake era,” but there’s been an endless outpouring of phenomenal records from every other corner of the genre too.
There was a particular era of indie culture back in the late 2010’s that some might rather forget: Odd Future merch everywhere, an influx of “soft boy” fashion, and suburban youth all over America bumping this zany new boy band called BROCKHAMPTON. They sounded fresh as hell, but they might’ve been the kind of thing you had to just be there for. Over half a decade later, most of the artists that defined this period have moved on to other ventures—but as evidenced by Chasing Moving Trains, there’s one still hung up on it.
Sampling has always been at the core of hip–hop. DJ Kool Herc knew it when he threw the first ever hip–hop party in 1973. Back then, sampling was already about who could find the most unique records and mix together the newest sounds. But by the '80s and '90s, production was a whole different game. Wu–Tang Clan started sampling kung–fu films, MF DOOM sampled Marvel villains, and Eric B. and Rakim put out "Seven Minutes of Madness," one of the craziest sampling compositions ever released.
Nestled between the restaurants and shops along 40th street between Locust and Walnut, sits the Last Word Bookshop. Passersby can look through the big window in the front to see impressive stacks of books surrounding customers browsing around the different towering sections. It has become a popular spot among Penn students and community members alike, with people coming in at all times of day. You’ll see the shop busy early in the afternoons of a weekday or late at night—even past midnight—on weekends.
Have you ever thought about just how much room we give up to cars? Approximately one-third of the land in America’s urban centers is eaten up by parking, and that’s not even counting the vehicles being actively driven. Not only are these gasoline-guzzling machines warming our planet and dirtying our air, they’re hogging precious urban space.
Content warning: This article contains mentions of rape and sexual harassment that can be disturbing and/or triggering for some readers.
My fellow foodies know that the perfect dinner is a several–act–long play. Act I consists of thorough research: extensive scrolling through Reddit's r/PhiladelphiaEats, then moving on to Beli, shortlisting numerous places, surveying pictures and reviews, and judging their social media as if their Instagram “coolness” is synonymous with their food’s delectability. Then comes Act II, the dining experience: Are the lights dim but not too dim? Is it loud enough to create a lively ambiance but not so loud that you have to scream across the table? The final act, Act III, is arguably the most exciting: the rating. In the Uber back, you present your critiques and deliberate; you present your scores. Another one ticked off the list!
If you’re a classical music enthusiast like myself, Philadelphia is the city to be.
She scammed hotels, banks, and friends out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. She was convicted on one count of attempted grand larceny, three counts of grand larceny, and four counts of theft services. She served almost four years in jail, including time at Rikers Island. Six weeks after her release, she was arrested by United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement for overstaying her visa. And recently, Anna Delvey appeared on Dancing With the Stars—wearing a bedazzled ankle monitor.
Every fall, the air becomes crisp and the leaves turn from green to shades of red and yellow. Pumpkin and apple pie spices begin to waft through homes, and chunky sweaters start to appear on individuals walking down Locust Walk. During the fall, many gather under their warm, fuzzy blankets and turn on Netflix to reunite with characters of a small town in Connecticut. What show are they watching? Gilmore Girls.
A pretty clear line can be drawn tracing Yeat’s musical evolution since he first blew up in 2021. Initially, there was the incredible run of 4L, Up 2 Më, and 2 Alivë: a seamless melding of hungry delivery, bouncy and hypnotic beat selections, and playfully tongue–in–cheek lyrics, half of which stuck in the form of inescapable vocal stims (“I been spinnin’ off these percs like I’m a laundromat”was generational shit). 2023’s AftërLyfe took an abrupt turn, with fewer memorable bars, but a fruitful dip in experimentation and introspection.
“Can the basement that they run p*tchfork out of just collapse already,” Halsey tweeted after reading the publication’s review of her 2020 album Manic—a review that said her newest work reminded them of “sitting miserably in the backseat of a Lyft.” This tweet was promptly deleted after Halsey found out that Pitchfork operates out of the World Trade Center. Halsey quickly tried to remedy the issue by claiming she was joking and was attempting to “poke at them back with the same aloof passive aggression they poke at artists with.”
Siren–like synthesizers. The heady pulse of house. Punchy 808s that strain my cheap and overworked bluetooth speaker. The bubblegum–lilt of a K–pop track. As the semester enters a lull after the frenzy of midterms, I’ve swapped out my instrumentals and brown noise playlists for my cache of music to get ready to. On the weekends, I hook up my ailing JBL portable to a charging port as one would prepare an IV for a sickly patient, open up Spotify, and sing along as I power through my makeup routine, always slightly behind schedule.
I still remember when Lil Uzi Vert first dropped Eternal Atake. It was the week before COVID–19 lockdowns, and I was a freshman in high school walking to my world history class when suddenly, everybody went rabid. The outer–space, alien–themed album had been delayed, hyped up, and mourned over for nearly two years before it was finally released with zero warning. As a student in the Philadelphia school district, a part of Uzi’s hometown, it’s safe to say that it was all anyone could talk about or listen to that day.
At noon on May 31, students, faculty, and staff of the University of the Arts (UArts) received a devastating email: the school was closing. Without prior warning, the UArts community was thrown into chaos, with the status of careers and education uncertain. For some, this uncertainty has abated as short–or long–term solutions have been found. For others, the effects of the closure will last for a long time to come.